


Adjust Your Laces (It's Going to be a Long Run)

by Kara_J



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2019-12-29 17:56:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18299237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kara_J/pseuds/Kara_J
Summary: Everything backfires when Connor and North wake up in a life they don't recognize.  Before they can fix it, though, they have to understand each other's challenges and realize the similarities that never dawned their thought till now.





	1. Dirty Cheaters Always Win

The snow is building up as the days become cold again in Detroit.  In the distance, a horizon of snow-topped trees and a clean, open land screams freedom.  The only way it could get better is if she sprouted wings to cruise the endless sky above.  

 She’s just finished an evaluation of a lot they recently purchased with a historic building.  Markus wanted to accompany her, but had a previously planned - and crucial - engagement with Carl.  So instead, he’d sent Connor along with her.  Even post-revolution, society isn’t without its own dangers, never will be without them and a crowd is usually more effective than one individual alone.  

 Generally, Connor’s been calm, just following her around, looking to make sure no one’s followed them, and quiet as can be.  Markus is right, he’s an excellent safety partner, observant to every sound and movement (although quite capable on her own, she gets it, isn’t going to argue, either.  This way she can actually focus).    

 However, something about his demeanor changes entirely when they finish the walk-through and step back outside.  Deep brown eyes flutter anxiously about the land and his steps lag ever-so-cautiously.  It’s like he’s in a desperate search for something.  She doesn’t have to grasp his hand to notice the blue shade building up on his knuckles when his fingers clasp together just before he rubs his palms together to build up some warmth.  Conner was doing just fine when they were in the comfort of the indoors, now he’s suddenly dressed like a human with the flu.  

And it isn’t just today.  He started wearing multiple layers the day temperatures dropped in Detroit and the first snowflake fell to the ground.  North just doesn’t get it.  He’s an android, the cold weather shouldn’t bother him so much.  

It’ll be a little before the cab makes it, and him being nervous will eventually make her nervous, too...  Sure, they don’t speak much, but it doesn’t mean she doesn’t care for him.  They just don’t…  _communicate_.  Something needs to change before the cab arrives, so North reverts to the first thing that works for her when she feels this way: distraction.  

As Connor’s paranoia continues, North kneels to the ground and gathers some snow in her hands, mashing and patting it into a ball.  Just when Connor looks in the opposite direction, she throws the ball at him and it lands smack dab on his shoulder, just below the seam of the insulated hood on his jacket.  “Gotcha!”

His mouth gapes open in shock as he dusts it off.  “Okay, THAT was a cheap shot, and you know it!”

North offers a challenging smirk.   “And?  Whatcha’ gonna do about it?”

“I’ll have you know, as a top of the line model, I could-“

 She throws another ball at him and it lands hard on his chest, dispersing a decoration of spotted white all over his front.  “Top of the line huh?  Prove it….”

“Alright, then… challenge accepted!”  Now it’s him who’s kneeling down to the ground, gathering snow into cold hands.  North can see a ghost of a smile creeping onto his face as he pats it into a single, compact ball.  This is what she was looking for!  A break in the silence, a side of him that’s not so serious.  Although that ball is looking pretty serious as it gets more and more packed.  

 

 _Quick_!  He’s going to nab her if she doesn’t have one in hand by the time he’s finished, so she, too, puts together her own snowball in a hurry to see who can get theirs ready first.  It’s too late, though.

Thwack!  

His ball lands first and now her back is nicely splattered, too.  North promptly turns and stands to face him again, lumpy ball of snow in hand that’s not near as perfectly round as his was becoming.  “And you call mine a cheap shot?!” Her back was turned for goodness sake! His wide-spread grin tells all as he runs around and ducks behind a tree, scooping  more into his hands.

 _He won’t get her this time!_   

North sprints toward his camping spot, her lumpy, asymmetrical ball in hand, but Connor immediately runs.  Leaping in the snow while keeping her monster-sized snow ammo intact is no easy feat. The ground is thick and she sinks with every step she can manage compared to his nimble form.  Luckily, he’s distracted from the forced flee to collect snow for another ball 

Connor tries to pause now and then in midst of his escape to collect little by little, and it’s costing him the distance between them as she taunts, “y _ou can run, but you can’t hide_!“ with a most mischievous laugh.  Along the way, she leans over to pick up tiny scoops in her free hand, throwing them his way just as quickly while she closes in the gap.  They don’t land well, as expected, but it keeps him dodging.  

“C’mon, North!  That’s not fair!”

“ _Fair, my ass_!  Maybe you should take a look in the mirror!”

Finally he stops, and North takes her chance to throw it, but he ducks, letting the moisture burst hard against a tree.  

The fight is going slow, and trying to beat his perfectly cylindrical snowballs isn’t working, so she opts for a more aggressive route, something that suits  _her_ battle method.  It turns into beautiful chaos that throws Connor off his game: a flurry of white masses flying in the air as they both sprint around the yard.  They soar so fast, she can’t keep up with the score anymore, but it’s  _exhilarating_!  This is the most fun she’s ever had waiting for a cab, and Connor’s actually smiling rather than panicking!

“Hey, the cab, it’s here!” Connor shouts.  His eyes squint in focus as he points towards the lot behind her.  

It’s earlier than she expected and they’re dispersed far from each other on Jericho’s front lawn.  However, when North pauses to look around, the lot is completely empty!  He didn’t!  _North fell for the oldest trick in the book_.  That little cheater!  That dirty, lying cheater!  He’s going to pay for making a fool of her like this!  

North spins back around, ready to shoot his way, smash his face with snow and maybe make him eat some of it, too.  Before her hand reaches the ground to scoop some up, though, she stops, mid-track in the yard.  He’s gone... disappeared into thin air!  

_That sly little shit!_

“Connor?” North calls out.  Maybe he’s managed to lose her like the fool she was, but he can’t hide forever!  “ _Cooooonnnoooooorrrrr_ …”  

Tip-toeing around the ground, she picks up a little snow at a time in his lack of presence.  This one’s going to have to be big!  Connor’s certainly had enough time around whatever corner he’s fled to make nasty ball for her, too.  She can  _feel_ it… He’s cheated twice already and North doesn’t put it past him anymore to pull a move like this.  

There’s no response and a glance around the yard says he’s definitely not behind any trees.  There wasn’t enough time in the distraction for him to climb one, either, and he’d be spotted anyway when all the leaves are dead till spring.  With careful steps through the thick, white coated ground, she holds the compacted snow in her hand steadily, ready to smash it in his face when he pops around from wherever he’s at.  

The ground is getting thicker as she moves and their footprints are everywhere!  What was once a breathtakingly smooth reflection of shimmering sparkles looks like a child’s play yard now.

There’s no way she can decipher their prints apart!  Some criss cross each other while others have been over stepped, making the sizes undeterminable.  Still, she gathers more and more snow just in case he leaps out.  Her next toss will be the mother load of them all, now at the size of a soccer ball.  

A phantom paranoia that their cab arrived early pops back into her head (gee, thanks, Connor!), so North stops and takes one more look back to the lot (which is empty, still), but when she turns around, a figure emerges from the ground before her!  The ghostly figure wraps its fingers around her ankle, giving it a mild tug.

With a frightened jump, North tosses her enormous snowball into the air and falls, landing on top of… Connor!  Damned it, he got her  _again_!  Before she whip out an insult or argument, the ball she threw into the air lands smack dab on the back of her head.  Snow shoots all around them and now it’s her who’s served as his shield.  Connor genuinely laughs for a brief moment, too amused at the little huff in her voice and pursed lips that admit her defeat to even speak.  

What neither expect is for a branch hovering right above them to drop even more of the white, cold substance, a hefty amount enough to hit North again with enough impact that it pushes them back together.  There’s an unexplainable shock between them when they touch again.  

Time slows down for a moment and she can see the motion of every white flake flying away.  And yet between their bodies is warmth she’s never experienced.  When the clock ticks normally once more, their lips are but millimeters away.  

This… This was supposed to be a simple snowball fight!  Not a potential make-out session!  He’s apparently felt it, saw it too, marked by his wide-eyed expression.  

Refusing to accept this awkward situation, the girl jumps back to her feet as quickly as she can, stepping back so Connor has enough room to stand up, too.  Cold, nervous hands brush fresh snow off their shoulders, backs, and clothes.  

“So uh… does that mean I win?” Connor asks with a smirk.

“Where’d you get that notion from?  Of course not!”

North has the idea to offer an instant-death challenge.  Letting him win just like that just isn’t her style!  But before the words form, their cab pulls up on the driveway.  Thank God it’s one of those autonomous ones, else someone else might have witnessed their little collision.  

“You’re lucky, Connor!  The next one woulda smashed you so hard you couldn’t think straight!”

“Uh, huh… sure,” her opponent waves off.  He trudges toward the cab and she follows behind, still in awe about the wave of shock they shared when on the ground together.  But she’ll never talk about it to anyone about it.


	2. Green, Like You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their snow ball fight, North and Connor learn the next morning it may have had more effect than planned. They are not who they think they are anymore.

After yesterday’s awkward clash in the snow and a rejuvenating night of rest, North finally opens her eyes for a fresh start.  The morning’s rays of sunshine graze her view from an awkward angle she hadn’t expected.  That’s funny, the window is normally on the other side behind her so it isn't blinding.  Had she worn herself out that much and carelessly slept the wrong way?

At any rate, it’s a new day, and she needs a rematch with that dirty little cheater.  With a few tricks up the sleeve, revenge will be so, _so_ sweet.  She’s ready for this!

The unfamiliar surroundings all about the room are rather alarming, though, they aren’t what she recalls as her own.  North swears she’d gone home, not to some stupid sleepover like an immature teenage human. 

More notably, she’s covered with a blanket too; a large, fluffy, warm one that’s unusually _satisfying_.  She’s never used a blanket like this before, always remembering that, although she can detect temperature, it doesn’t cause discomfort, so it’s never been a priority as an android.  

It’s not the only warm thing on her, though.  There’s a dog sleeping at her feet, a rather large Saint Bernard.  When the canine notices her stare, it perks up and tilts its head up with a concerned look and a worried whine.

Looking around reveals that whoever’s house she’s at, they _must_ love Jazz because there’s a plethora of the genre’s musical artists’ photos on the wall and stacks of albums lying on a nearby table.  The dining room table across from the living room holds leftovers and paper trash from what she recognizes to be human take-out fast food.

There’s a grunt from a bedroom down a short hallway close by that interrupts her and a shaggy, grey-haired old man comes stumbling out.  He, too, has apparently just woken up, indicated by the bags under his eyes, a story of utter exhaustion from who knows what.  Humans tire out too quickly.

Still, something about this kind of scene feels familiar, and yet wrong at the same time, but not in a threatening way… unless… No, no, no!  

 

 _She couldn’t have reverted back to her old programming!_  

 

Is this a nightmare?!  Was he one of her clients, a memory resurfacing just now?!  Her heart races faster than it should, a familiar sign of panic and longing for freedom, the same kind she experienced when Floyd Mills tried to hold her down before she fled to Jericho.      

The first thing North plots to do is jump up and run away as fast as possible.  She can feel her eyes brimming with unstoppable tears as she leaps off the couch and bolts for what she assumes is the front door. But before she can even get halfway to it, the man’s call stops her in her tracks.

“Connor?”

Who in the hell does he think she is??  Her name’s not Connor!  It’s _‘North_ ’!

In the midst of her freeze at the foyer, he puts a hand on her shoulder and turns her around.  “Talk to me, Con, what’s wrong?”

Is this man deaf??  He name isn’t….

 

_….wait a minute…_

 

Why does she suddenly feel taller?  She’s hit with a brick of realization that she’s looking this man parallel in the eyes, and based from the calculations of her surroundings, he’s no short being either.  She lifts an arm, afraid to look at the attire on it.  Shaky, North knows this is definitely _not_ her set of clothes.

“A mirror!  Where’s a mirror?!”  Anxious eyes flit all around the room, trying to find the bathroom.  As she speaks, another truth hits hard: her voice, it’s…. No... _no,_ this can’t be real!  It just can’t!

The man questionably raises a single brow and points back to the hallway he just emerged from.  

In a hurry, North scrambles back across the living room, nearly tripping over the dog on the way.  A quick look at the the right side of the short hall shows which door leads to the restroom.  As she fumbles it open, the mirror is right beside her over the sink  With not-her-own hands, she cups her face as she takes a glance. It’s an utter mess, there’s _his face_ , cupped in _his_ hands.

 

_Oh shit…_

 

North knows she has to find the real Connor, and now!  A strange text pops in front of her and fades out just quick enough for the message to process in thought.  The letters are red, they’re an instruction:  _Mission updated: Locate North_.

What in the actual hell does that mean?   _She IS North_.  It feels like her new system is pranking her, bidding one last joke before reality sets in too deep.  

“Listen I uh…”, North starts, remembering that she knows nothing of Connor’s personal life.  Fuck, what’s his partner’s name again?  A minute of hesitation earns a rather accusing look from the man, who’s still standing baffled in the living room.  “Something really important just came up at Jericho!  So sorry, but I’m going to have to cancel whatever we had today!  See ya!”  Promptly, North rushes out of the bathroom without giving the him a chance to respond, grabs a jacket off the chair by the front door, and bolts outside.  The door slams shut behind her, or rather _him_.  

There’s no time to call a cab, so she takes advantage of Connor’s long legs to run to the nearest trolly.

She may not know what’s happening, but the one thing they are both bound by is Jericho, and he’s likely to retreat there too.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Connor blinks his eyes for a moment, choosing to close them again one more time.  What was North thinking last night, attacking him with snow behind his back?  He’s _clearly_ the faster one, although he has to confess that she gave him a run for his money when she encouraged a chase.  Good tactic, that’s for sure. 

Knowing he doesn’t have time to dawdle around, he finally chooses to wake up.  Cases are waiting, and they won’t solve themselves.  He swats and slaps his hand around his torso, looking for his blanket, and it’s nowhere to be felt.  How odd… had he thrown it off in his sleep?  Connor loves cuddling in it, staying wrapped in a cocoon of soft cotton and wool and once he’s asleep, he never lets go of it.  The cold has never been his friend ever since that winter night in Amanda’s zen garden, that horrid, horrid snow storm, and he wants no reminder of it. 

But… when he sits up and looks around for it on the floor, he suddenly realizes he’s _not_ where he originally went to sleep.  Instead, he’s surrounded by a studio apartment suited for one person, and it’s decorated rather… rebelliously.

A Posters of a war-ready woman hangs on one wall and below it is a lined with a small rack of knives.  Also plastering the other walls are motivational quotes, some printed, some handwritten.  “Freedom isn’t free,” and other oddly realistic motivational phrases decorate the barriers as a constant reminder of the battle for life.

It’s all kind of intimidating, and yet in the midst of it is a beautiful standing wardrobe featuring a vintage appeal.  Among everything else, it creates a clash of both fight and beauty in the overall decor. What rests on top the furniture piece expresses more passion than any poster or quote around him, though: a golden crown with small, red diamonds at the top of each spike, glammed and polished just enough to shine a little in the light.  It’s an oddly placed object in the middle of chaos.  In conclusion, this is definitely the room of a woman who holds her own. 

How the fuck did he end up here anyway?  If he even dares to try and share the story, everyone’s going to think he’s a sleaze for expensive bitches (and there goes his refinery).  No one can know.  The first thing is to report to Hank.  With what story, he isn’t sure yet, but surely some excuse will come to mind.    

He tries lifting two fingers to his temple to dial Hank’s number, but can’t seem to retrieve it.  In fact, his data bank as a whole is a lot emptier than it should be – no criminal case files, no evidence logs, no DPD contact information- all of it, gone!  Who’s managed to erase it all, and _how_ leaves a baffled feeling?  His information is encrypted, and _three times_ at that!  If there’s anyone who can get into those documents, it’s Hank, but only because he has the password for emergency use.  Hank wouldn’t hack into him for no reason though; he’s _family_.

Unless… Did his and North’s dual last night did more damage than he thought?  Connor’s certain he hadn’t hit his head or felt anything out of the norm, except for that small shock when they were on the ground.  He tries scanning the current location, eyeing piece by piece around him, but no information pops up about anything that can lead to an answer, no pre-constructive lead to clue him.     

Irritated, he raises a hand to scratch the back of his head, confused as to why even his scanners seem broken too, but there’s more hair on his head than he remembered having!  Letting the strands run through his fingers as he brings his hand in front of him, it’s now clear that they’re long – too long- to be his, and it’s slight golden shade of crimson looks just like… 

“What the fuck?!”  Connor cries out in a staggered breath and female voice that escapes confirms the truth in even deeper.  “Then where is… _Oh no_ ….”

Instantly, the first thought that pops into his head is to find her – or rather his body and the one thing they are both likely to know is Jericho.  She’s likely to retreat there, too.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

North is in so much trouble… _Connor’s_ going to be in so much trouble too, at fault or not.  She peers through the two windows they have at the entrance framing the door to New Jericho, spying to see who’s nearby.  To her dismay, though, she forgets that they applied a nice tint recently so nobody could peer unwelcomingly… _maybe people like her right now, or him_ … she’s used to the commotion of social interaction, and usually she can handle it, but today is a different story.  It’s not her face she’s wearing, and North isn’t even sure how to pull this off.

Refusing to go in won’t solve any of their problems, though, so the choice is made: she _has_ to face the crowd.  This is going to rattle her nerves.  Absolutely no mistakes can be made!  With a deep breath in, then out, she opens the door, bystanders or not, and strides inside.  Plots of various responses drill her imagination.  What if they ask this?  What if they ask that?  _What if they notice something different?!_  God, just dealing with the front crowds in her own body is rattling enough!  Connor’s a _big figure_ in this place and she expects the confrontation to be twice as heavy. 

Her deeper-than-usual brown eyes meet theirs as the door closes behind her and she’s almost frozen in their presence.  And yet none of them actually approach her… are they all waiting at once for her (him) to pass by?  Daring to push forward, North continues to walk, ready at any moment to open her mouth and potentially mess up this entire act.

As she gets closer, though, they… they don’t speak.  Every spectator in the room, once close enough for a worthy greeting, break eye contact and turn their backs, obliviously pretending to be busy, and some even scurry off like roaches. They part from his pathway like a splitting sea. 

Could this really be happening?  Are they _all_ leaving her alone without a word?  The intimidation in their eyes just before they glanced away was… _exhilarating_!  It reminds her of the day when they feared her, too, and god, does she miss those times.  Now they’ve gotten so used to her in this tame environment that she simply exists.

But Connor…. The solitude, privacy, intimidated obedience… a sense of _power_???  Envy crosses every thought in her mind.  The things Connor could do with this silent seniority and yet he takes advantage of _none_ of it!  She’s always claimed to be a queen – and she still is-  but in his body, she _actually_ rules them!  Right now, she could jump towards one of the deviants, and they would yelp, and boy does she love the thought.

Enough play time, though.  That would draw entirely too much attention!  Intimidation may feel nice, but so would being back in her own body!

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Connor has to find her!  It’s as crucial as the blue blood that flows in him – well, _her_.  As he approaches the door to Jericho’s facility, he’s no stranger to the lot of deviants in the front.  Usually they duck and panic in fear when he walks in, although they have nothing to be concerned about – he’s not the deviant hunter he was before – and sometimes it’s rather unnerving.  

If they would just let that image go and accept him for once, they would learn better!  He’s even tried greeting them, smiling their way, but they never seem to hear or see the generosity he tries to offer.  They see the _deviant hunter_ , no more, no less…

That’s okay today, though.  Passing through everyone towards the back will be just as easy as it is typically disappointing, and the notion is rather convenient in this sticky situation.  With a sigh, he enters into the lobby, ready to get their awkward stares over with.  When the door clicks behind him inside, he focuses on moving forward, intent to just avoid their bouts of fright.  Even North has valid reason to be feared, so how will today be any different?  She’s fierce for a woman, strong and valiant in her own way. 

He’s almost completely through the first few deviants when he hears a voice from behind.  “Hello, North!” 

He pauses, surprised to hear someone greet him first for once.  A spin to look around shows a new addition he’s never seen before, a female, YK500.  He recognizes her not by the lack of the facial recognition scanner he's so used to utilizing, but by her features.  A very beautiful little girl, she is, looks almost exactly like Alice, but has her own variation that separates the twin-like appearance. 

“Sorry to bother you, but I just wanted you to know… Well, I really like you!  My family is alive because of you!  They told me stories and… and I’m so glad you’re real!”  The girl holds her arms out, a clear notion for a hug.

Connor isn’t sure at all what to do next.  Nobody offers him gratitude, and to be honest… it feels nice.  It’s energetic, optimistic, _initiative_ … He may not be in his own body, but he gladly takes the invitation, wrapping his arms around her in return with a firm hold.  “Of course!  You’re worth it.  It’s so good to meet you!  However, I have someone I have to meet.  Maybe we can talk some more later, over a game?”  He holds her in front of him, hands on the girls’ shoulders with a smile he hasn’t worn inside these walls for a long time. 

“Yeah!”  She bounces merrily, retreating back to her guardians, who are also smiling his way.   

As he passes through them, others smile and nod in greeting.  Is this how it feels to have his efforts acknowledged?  North is more admired than he realized.  Connor’s not normally a social being, but something about being seen for something other than threat fills him with satisfaction that just maybe he’s doing something right.  Too bad it wasn’t his face they were seeing…

 

_If only he received the same affirmation in his real body._

 

 


	3. Mirror, Mirror

Finding Connor takes longer than North thought it would be.  She’s nervous about running into the others, constantly ducking around corners, peeping nearby to spy on crowds she needs to avoid.  If anyone spots her – or him rather – she’s royally screwed, has absolutely no idea how to handle Connor’s tasks or expectations in Jericho when he spends so little time here.   

Finally she spots her own body lingering and peering just as awkwardly.  " _Connor, I’m here!  Look to your right!”_ she whispers.

He notices, peering back at her with paranoid eyes.  It’s so funny, usually she knows she’s beautiful, but right now, North can barely look at her own body across the hallway.  The very thought that Connor’s conscious is residing inside of it gives her a sense of utter sickness.  It belongs to _her_!  

Once a few have cleared from their surroundings, she waves her hand back, making swift movement to meet him halfway.  She can’t help the first words that come out of her mouth.  “How in the hell did this happen?”  North watches her own brown eyes stare back into her new darker ones.  The air is still and silent between them.  

He’s just as cluelessly shocked.  “I wish I could answer that question.  The bigger problem right now is how do we convince everyone who we are without looking like fools?!  Hank, he might think I’ve…”

Hank…. As in the old man who’s living room she woke up in?  It _has_ to be.  Otherwise Connor wouldn’t be so quick to mention the name.  The grump already took her for a fool this morning.  If she returns with some bizarre story about how 'I’m not actually Connor', she’s going to lose brownie points for psychotic behavior and even “home” will turn into awkward atmosphere, too.  “Connor, nobody can find out!  They’ll hound us if they do!”

“But North, they’ll perceive our differences.  How exactly are we supposed mask ourselves in…”  Connor spreads his arms and glances around the space around them, “here, Jericho, the world?  It would be a lot easier to manage if we just be honest and-" 

“-Stick our throats out so we can get slaughtered?  Look, _you have to pretend to be me, and I have to pretend to be you_ , until we can fix this!  Neither Jericho nor the police station nor Hank, nor _anyone_ can find out.”  Wow that sounded weird coming from his voice.  Connor never speaks like this.

Connor, still in North’s body, sighs and closes his freshly amber eyes for a moment in defeat.  Once his gaze comes back to meet hers again, it’s clear he understands.  They _will_ hound them, maybe poke fun at them.  “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but…fine, but only for a little bit. If we don’t find any answers soon enough though, we _have_ to tell them, or someone else will piece it together and call us out.  I don’t think that’s something we want.” 

It’s as close as it gets to her request, and… just maybe he’s right.  Here’s to hoping they find an answer to it all.  North extends her open palm out.  “Deal.”  He takes her hand into his with a firm shake and settled gaze in his eyes, and boy is it strange, the feel of her hand in… _her hand_ , or however that works.  “Until then, let’s find somewhere private,” Connor continues after releasing their hold, “We should exchange whatever it is we need to know before separating,” he instructs.  Things sound so much calmer, analytical even, from her voice when it’s _him_ who’s saying it.  

The two scuttle away from the hallway, hoping desperately not to be caught.  Intentionally evading confrontation makes them look a little awkward, but the privacy is worth it when they finally arrive at a small conference room in the library meant for no more than four.  Here, they sit across from each other, staring with nearly accusing intention into their own body’s eyes. 

Why did this have to happen?  How did this happen, and what else can possibly go wrong with it?  Lots of things, that’s for sure!

Connor’s going to be surrounded by android community members 24/7 and expected to communicate with them frequently, something that if messed up, it’ll blow their cover.   She sits up straight and crosses her arms, determined to make this right.  “Listen, you’re going to be stuck here, so there are some things you need to know!  I'm Markus’ right hand man…" 

Connor half scoffs, half snickers with a suspiciously raised eyebrow.  “finally looking the role, too.”

“I’m not…. _Connor_!”  Although right now she technically  is.  _Another fucking unintended pun that gets him chuckling_.  She can hear the snicker hidden behind the grin on his (not his) face.  Now’s not the time to joke when her dignity is on the line.  “Seriously though, ever since the revolution, I’ve become a public figure for deviants all over the city.  Other androids are going to approach you and Markus is going to drag you out at times, too, so you have to smile.”

Connor’s smirk disappears.  Although it gives her reflecting expression a touch of the resting bitch face he normally carries around in his own body.  At this rate, their little pretending-to-be-eachother session won’t pass clever eyes for more than a day.  _The mom lecture is on!_  “Don’t make me look like a social recluse around here.  I’m supposed to help recruit and reach out to others, and _that_ look isn’t going to win anyone over, or convince them that you are… me.  I’ve worked _very hard_ to shed off that image of violence and war shit from the public opinion, and I refuse to let your hardball scowl ruin it!  Smile for me, show me what you’ve got.”

With an exhausted sigh, Connor lifts his head up higher and tries the ‘North smile’.  “Welcome to Jericho,” he adds on.  A thoughtful thing, it is, but the words don’t match the face.  He looks the local retailer who despises watching people walk into the door.  The expression in his eyes don’t match the same in his lips.  One says yes and the other says no.  It’s an obvious force, and everyone’s going to be asking if he’s okay when the signal is mixed. 

“That’s a disaster waiting to happen, Connor. I look like I'm about to commit murder.  Maybe try to find a more natural look?  Think about something that makes you happy.”

His gaze escapes reality for a moment, and finally he pops up with a curve on his lips that's much prettier.  "Like Sumo."

"Sumo?  As in sumo wrestlers?"  Wow, his interests are strange.

But he shakes his head.  "No, Sumo, the dog in the house you woke up in.  He's an old boy, but a good one."  He's not lying about it.  Sumo was as calm as ever.  Certainly the whine meant he knew something was wrong, but never had he attacked her.  

In a sense, it kind of makes her smile, too.  "Cute.  Then keep thinking about him all day."

Connor’s smiling practice session comes a halt when North recognizes a call coming in. Truth be told, she’d ignored the first two.  The best way to avoid having to do Connor’s legal work was to pretend it isn’t, right?  Connor’s been a busy bee and gotten a lot done already.  But Hank (and she knows this only because the newly discovered phone registry she can access identified the number) is persistent, so she holds up one finger and answers with two long fingers covering her re-existing led.  God, it feels so weird to have one again, and Connor's not likely to just let her take it off.  He's kept it in as long as they've known each other. 

_‘Where in the hell are you, Connor?  A slaughterhouse case possibly involving an android or  few just came in and they want us there, now!’_

“H-Hank!  Yeah, sure.  Totally on my way!” North answers into the air.   _Fuck, that was a stupid answer_!  Why hadn’t she thought of an excuse first before diving right in and accepting it?!  The man continues to brief her with a sense of urgency on his tongue, though she doesn’t hear what he says in the midst of thoughts on what kind of deep shit she’s just stepped into.  “Asap, gotcha.”

Connor is the first one to speak after the unexpected call.  He’s staring at the table arms glued down in distraught, probably feeling obliged to go, but in this body, its not possible.  He slams a closed fist on the table just enough to startle her.  “Now?!  Of all times?!  Son of a…”  He glances back up at north sternly.  “And by the way, never use the word ‘totally’ again.  They’ll definitely pick up on that one.”

“Kind of like how he looked at me all weird this morning when I didn’t know what was going on?  No telling what he’s going to say when we meet again!”  North can’t focus on anything but how this murder case will go wrong as her hands run and lace through her hair.  It takes more effort to tug at the strands when they’re so much shorter.

“Calm down!  You’re giving me a bed-head.  He’s definitely going to ask about it when he sees you stressed like this!”  Connor stretches across the table and combs her hair back down from the spiked mess.  “Conducting an investigation takes more than you think.  If you really want this to work, this is how it’s going to have to go.  Hank is expecting you at the DPD.  In fact, you’re probably already late.  When you go out to investigate the crime scene, just let him do all the talking.  He’s experienced enough to be able to handle it single handedly.”

“So just stand around and listen them till it’s done?”  Sounds boring as shit, but if it’ll make her new image pass unsuspecting police officers and get the job done, it’s worth a try.

“Not exactly.  As for you, well, you’re one of their top detectives, they’ll expect you to examine at least a little bit of it… so just… poke around and confirm whatever he’s said so it sounds like you’re contributing!  If you _absolutely have to talk_ , just be kind of vague or repeat something he mentioned in different words.  He’ll give you a weird look, but it’ll be okay.  Do this, and you’ll still look like you’re doing something without amaturely tampering with too much evidence!”

Amature, huh?  That’s an insulting way to put it (although she can’t deny the truth of it).  While in each other’s bodies, they have no choice but to accept their temporary fates.  She’s a strong warrior capable of war, a little crime scene is nothing! She can survive making a few little notes about some dead bodies!  

  
  _I can do this, I can do this_ , she chants quietly to herself.  


	4. Duty to the Law

Walking into the crime scene is a whole new experience in itself.  North’s used to being held back by yellow tape and officers commanding words, but now she technically _is_ the police.  Lifting the tape carefully and ducking underneath gives a sense of wild exploration; beyond it is an aura of authority.   

… now she knows why Hank sounded so urgent…

Before her eyes is miniature replication of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre.  A barrage of blood stains, both red and blue, decorate the floor like tie-dye, and by each obstacle potentially involved on the ground is a standing yellow, folded marker.  There are three pale human bodies left over, and one deactivated android.  There’s a lot going on here, and she has no clue where to start.  _Don’t touch anything, let him do the talking,_ North reminds herself.  And so she does. 

Hank cruises the room slowly, taking time to observe each little thing while an officer briefs him on what they know (which is mostly the obvious stuff).  Another walks around the scene at their own pace, quick flashes of light capturing images of each noted element. 

Her new partner hasn’t said anything about this morning’s abrupt exit out of the house, thankfully.  He’s more focused on the evidence spread about the room.  “Well, whatcha’ think, Con?  Did you find anything interesting out?”

The man has left little commentary she can use to get all macho with words, probably assumed she was coming to the same deductions.

“Not yet, sir.  Still scanning the area, and they are definitely all dead.  Tsk, tsk, a stroke of bad luck here.”  Maybe it makes Connor look a little slow, but definitely not unproductive.  

Her partner’s eyes narrow, sending a judgmental gaze her way, brows furrowed and head tilted to the side.  “No shit, Sherlock… ya got anything else to state other than how the sky is blue?” 

 _Ouch_ … Casual talk clearly isn’t going to work here, he’s looking for real intel.  She’d followed him around like Connor instructed, and just when she had no choice but to speak, she’d stated the most obvious, idiotic thing in the room that that a even a monkey could have predicted.    

“Okay, have you already analyzed the samples?” Hank asks expectantly.  

Samples!  Such a perfect contribution that will be, and maybe even earn some brownie points back from Hank.  “On it!  Did you bring a kit with you?”

“....A kit?  Are you okay, Connor?  Just lick the damned blood already.  Not in front of me, though.”  Hank turns around and disappears into another room before North thinks to ask what he means.   _Lick the blood?!_    

How does Connor do this?  He didn’t even mention being the DPD’s walking laboratory!  She draws back to consider the most refined way to pull of such a disgusting act.  The one thing she can conclude is he definitely doesn’t kneel on all fours!  Just imagining it is ridiculous.  Even in Jericho he carries more dignity than that.  So she goes to the next calculation she can: the samples she sees on television shows: it usually doesn’t take more than a few drops, and Hank said to _lick_ it, so it shouldn’t take much, right? 

Substances usually disappear off their synthetic skin, so North taps a finger barely onto the surface of one of the blood puddles. As she shakes her hand and lifts it back up to shed off any potential excess, the thought of human blood in her mouth is revolting!   She examines the substance, reluctant to put it in her mouth.  Why, she wonders.  Unless he’s secretly a vampire… _he’s definitely a damned vampire_... 

She hesitantly touches her tongue with the blood-tipped finger, taking the tiniest bit in possible.  If this much doesn’t work, she’ll try a little more.  The taste is so, _so_ awful.  North gags, uttering a nauseated sound from her male voice.  Slinging the leftover red blood off her finger instantly, she doubles over as if to spit out what little bit she intook, only to find that the sample has already dissolved away.  

Hank looks at her weird, arms raised in disbelief.  Fuck, of course Connor doesn’t normally react this way, he’s used to it and she looks even more like a fool!  Odd how even Connor’s partner accepts this notion of… _drinking human blood_.  It tastes (taste…. _Taste_!  How astonishing the very idea of being able to taste things is and how, in this body, she’d instantly known!) of iron and plasma, and red ice… wait, an entire analysis is popping into her vision!  How had Connor’s sensors uncovered so much from one tiny drop??

Suddenly she also recognizes the exact identity of the person the liquid spilled from, DNA listing all their information and records, and how fresh it is from said human’s injury!  “Timothy Wimbleton, age 27, charged for money laundering.”  The list goes on and on as far as she can possibly access.  Connor’s “laboratory” has an entire database attached! 

The thirium samples aren’t so harsh, these she’s used to when they have to consume it to maintain their levels.  But still, each one reveals a different model and how fresh the damage is.  The world of intel is at her thumb.  Connor’s lucky, and how he doesn’t take advantage of it almost mesmerizes her.  The things she could bait others with! 

Still, with all this available for her fresh, advanced RK800 sight, she still doesn’t know what half of the crime scene actually _means_ other than a bunch of deceased humans, androids, and bloodshed over some red ice.  There has to be more behind it, a history of exchange and she can’t figure out how Connor puts it all together in such a short time.  His functions are still too foreign for North to be familiar enough with.

Hank expects an answer, though.  He’s impatiently staring her down, awaiting the results of her ‘analysis’.  

“Maybe it was a drug bust?” North begins, trying to figure out a plausible event.  The process of elimination ought make Hank talk so she can ‘conveniently agree with him’.  “Besides, humans kill over the stupidest things.”  Something’s definitely missing.  Her partner means business - as he should - and she genuinely _wishes_ she could provide more.  

However, Hank’s not taking the bait, isn’t buying her ‘maybe’ stuff; it’s obvious by his raised eyebrow and half squinted eyes.  It was an honest, effort, though, she’d used it in lue of trying to create something that sounded like something an investigator would recognize.  “We’re not here to make a guess.  If it was a bust, we’d have seen evidence of a police raid, but none of this belongs to a single officer and it would have been report _and_ a warrant on record, unless you know something I don’t?”  The man turns to look back at her again, awaiting.

How could she have not considered that?!  North’s definitely missing a lot of information here, but she just doesn’t know how to access it.  

“Or maybe....”  Now is NOT the time to blank out.  

“Is it too much for you, tin can?”  Another man pops up around her.  This one is much shorter, but carries a stout confidence, kind of like her when she’s in her own body.  His casual wear makes it hard to tell what his position is in all of this. 

“No!  Just uh…. you know, police stuff!”   _Fuck, she didn’t even mean for that to come out!  Stupid nerves!!_   

“I think your plastic pet’s finally bugging out.  Anyway’s there’s not much more to look at.  It’s a damned war in here and got all the pictures I need, so I’m outta here.”  Detective Reed, as his badge says, winks towards North in a way she can’t interpret.  Plastic Pet?!  That wink was way too inviting, but how he meant it, she can’t tell.  

Hank eyes North one more time, questioning her sanity.  “I think we’re done here, too.”

No!  She needs to show Connor she nail his routine down!  “But we haven't figured out- 

Hank cuts off the protest before she can argue.  “-Connor, were not here to make shit up.  I think you know that already by now, and it’s obvious we aren’t getting anywhere right now.  We’ll come back when you recharge or whatever the fuck is wrong.”

“And the evidence?” 

“The crew already has photos and samples.  We can look over them in the office,” Hank groans.  The man trudges out of the building and past the tape towards his car again.   

She rushes behind him, regretful of what’s to come at the Police station.  Truth be told, she really doesn’t want to go, would rather be back at Jericho, but it’s not her face she’s wearing, it’s Connor’s, and Connor holds a lot of responsibility in his hands.   

The car ride carries an awkward silence.  Hank doesn’t have to speak for North to hear his message.   _Are you okay?  Is something wrong?_  But every time he send those silent worries, she never knows what to say.  What does Connor normally talk about in their leisure time? 

“So, what happened back there?” Hank asks, eyes focused on the road again.

She knows what he’s talking about, but doesn’t want to confirm it.  “It’s a lot to take in at once.”  The fact that she has no idea what she’s doing can’t be let out.

“You’ve taken on more than that before,” Hank retorts, nullifying her excuse.  How does Connor do this, pull out so much information at one time.  There’s no telling how many crooks and murderers lurk in the street, and Connor is out there, catching them??  He’s brave as shit, a lot braver than her right now.  Hank breaks her thought, though.  “So tell me, what’s wrong?”  

 _Oh yeah, that… he had to ask_.  Fuck, he’s smart!  Connor’s right, Hank’s no fool.  She can’t spill the beans, though, not this early!  It’s only been one day since their body swap.  There’s an answer somewhere out there to all of this!  “Just exhausted.  You know, even deviants need a break every now and then.” 

Hank shrugs.  “I suppose.  Still, there’s a killer out there, maybe more.  You gotta find your focus again if we’re gonna catch them, son.  Forty- eight hours, that’s all we have to get our closest lead, and you’re the strongest in the force.  Don’t crack out on me now.”  

North understands how much society relies on him now.  Sure, he doesn’t stay at Jericho long, but his duties outside of it make more difference than she realized, especially after seeing the mixed puddles of blue and red blood about that dirty, ruined floor.  It’s a puzzle that makes a difference in the fate of society. 

Connor doesn't just help Jericho, he serves both humans and androids outside of it, too. 

 _He has to uphold both law and order_.  

 


	5. Right Hand Woman

What does North typically do around Jericho?  Connor’s really not sure.  He’s used to having a mission, a homicide to solve, bad guys to chase… Right now it feels a little more like house sitting.  There’s no definite instructions popping up in his vision and so far he’s focused on just being polite to other deviants that cross him. The positivity is amazing, that’s one thing he’s relished in entirely, but the lack of missions to check off is bothersome.  He’s used to staying _busy_ , the one thing that keeps his mind from going adrift.  

Once boredom sets in, an idea pops into his head.  No one knows his love for music, and in this body, he can listen as freely as he wants without judgement.  As far as they know, he’s ‘North’, and it’s okay if ‘North’ is seen lounging with headphones on.  All Connor needs is his mp3 player.  As a gift from Hank, it'll also remind him of his old life and stand as a comfort in these times of confusion and feeling at loss.  He makes his way towards the office wing, locates his desk, and kneels down to the bottom drawer.  The press of a few numbers on a pad unlatches the lock successfully.  Thank goodness he hadn’t forgotten the passcode when they swapped.  Pulling the drawer open, he lifts the bottom panel of the drawer and pulls out a pair of headphones and the charged mp3 player. 

A familiar voice startles him from above, though.  Company is the last thing he expects right now.  “North?” 

Shit… shit, shit _shit_!  What’s Markus doing here?  North’s words ring in his head clearly:  _I’m Markus’ right hand man.._  

Just when things seemed calm, the deviant leader had to find him.  It should be easy, though, right?  Follow Markus’ lead and Connor will be fine!  He’s been in situations a lot worse than this, after all.  “Oh, h-hi!”

“Why are you snooping through Connor’s stuff?”

 _Wonderful_!  Now North looks like a thief!  “Connor was missing some information, so I had to send it to him to help with a case.”  He turns up to look at their leader, trying to wear the most honest look he can.  

“With a music player?”  Just the tone in Markus’ voice questions his statement 

“-Mine!  It’s mine!" (Well, technically it is.) “I already sent the info.  Just figured I’d uh…”  He holds the music player up, catching Markus’ gaze, who offers a knowing smile in return.  It’s bothersome how Connor can’t predict the leader’s thoughts as heterochromia eyes stare down at him.

“Maybe when we get back.  You ready to go, North?  The guys are about to leave.”

Oh…. _oh_ , _the public work that North warned him about_.  Connor’s not really inclined to go out right now, but in Markus’ eyes, he should be more than ready, enthusiastic, even.  He tries to tap into his social engagement programming - _shit!  It’s gone, too_!  The smile… the smile they practiced!  “You know it.” 

Goodbye glorious escape-from-reality tunes.  Reluctantly putting the headphones back into the drawer, Connor closes it back up, locks it, and stands up to join Markus’ side.  He follows his lead out to a vehicle, and they depart from their little haven. 

Along the way, Connor finds contentment just staring out the window.  With the two are Josh and Simon.  They’re talkative as can be and it’s hard to fit in the same way North does when they look his way expectantly.  They inquisition in their eyes tell all too much how they must be wondering about her well-being.  So he simply shoots another practiced smile and laughs when the rest do, trying to imagine its Sumo sitting beside him instead.  

Although the laugh sounds beautiful coming from her voice, and even that makes him smile, too.  

_Fuck!  No!  This isn’t the time to have these kinds of thoughts!_

When the car comes to a stop, it’s their destination that surprises him the most.  Looking back at the old house, his and North’s little snowball fight finds its way back into his memory.  The shock that happened between them.  The way her cheap-shot instigation took his mind off the snow.  Stepping out onto the ground, he notices how her body doesn’t tremble like his does when it touches the cold.  

“So… what are we doing here?” Connor asks, following the three ahead as they approach the old building.  

Josh stops, turns around, and shoots her a confused look.  “You forgot already?  You did come investigate it already, right?”

That’s right!  The notes she was taking as they walked the house before this whole body switch ordeal!  Fuck, what did they read?!  He’d paid no attention to it since he was merely there for safety in numbers.  His underlying priorities don’t lie in snooping in other people’s business when it’s not legally his own, too.  

“It’s the new women’s shelter, remember?  The one for the Eden Club deviants,” Markus reminds. 

It's amazing how dedicated they are to their people.  But Connor has no idea how a deviant from Club Eden should feel or what they would want.  Before the revolution, the some found their way to Old Jericho, but that’s about all he knows.  Are there others that haven’t escaped from that life yet?  _North knows something very important to this particular mission_ …

He’s going to have to bullshit till he can get some answers from her later on.

As they enter the house, the crew expects information.  What would a female deviant from Eden value?  Freedom and privacy for sure.  Connor hasn’t forgotten the spiteful words towards human men they said when he’d pursued them that day in Eden’s warehouse and the fight they put on.  

“We’ll start here with a warm, welcoming lobby.”

Simon glances around for a moment, returning his gaze back into his eyes.  Connor can't help but to feel an pang of panic creep into his thoughts as Simon inquires more definition to the vague proposition.  “What kind of things did you have in mind for it?”  

It's a genuine question, but he has no idea how to react.  With a small shrug, he begins an attempt, hoping the crew will offer little nudges of suggestion.  “Uh…. homey things.  Like….”  What does North want for it?  Chairs?  Pictures?  Plants?  Connor’s not a home decor’ specialist.   For all he knows, the only necessities required are a bed, a weapon, and a lock on his door, probably not the best image of an 'inviting, new home for women.'  The main problem is, he can’t think like one right now when he’s panicking in the midst of their questioning stares. 

_North’s notes, what are they? **Where** are they?!_

When Connor’s at a loss of words in the midst of the internal debate, Simon steps in.  “ _You’re_ the boss lady of this.  We’re just here to help get the things you need and put it together.”  

“I… I am?”  Connor’s royally screwed.  

“Yeah.  You couldn’t stop talking for days about how you were going to free them, remember?  I could see the fire in your eyes when you asked us about doing it.”

 _Oh_ … that’s quite some plot North has there.  Valid, but intense.  It’s true there are still androids out there waiting to be freed.  Some establishments haven’t quite agreed with the movement; Connor just never realized that Club Eden was one of those, and it's a little heart breaking.  North is brave, and he has to give her kudos for that, even if it's come off as a little... violent... at times.  Maybe she's just misunderstood.

Honestly, North’s personally quite capable of accomplishing it, but her going in like that is equivalent to him going into Cyberlife.  However, she’s not one to back down (a similarity at last: stubbornness!) and if he even tries to suggest something less than a fight, they’ll be questioning him.  Luckily, infiltration and combat are some of his strengths, so maybe he can still pull this off while deterring the crew from his lack of skills in domestic design.  He’ll retrieve her notebook, bring it along next time, and just read off of it!

“If you’re not up to-”

“Of course I am!”  Connor puts on a determined look, straightens his back, and pulls up his sleeves.  His body swap partner is a stubborn individual set on her ways as far as he can remember, so he has to carry the same passion she has when it comes to her goals.  “We’re saving them, no matter what!” Connor closes a fist and pumps it into the air .

A foreign voice he hasn’t heard for a long time interrupts them.  “Hell yeah!  Count me in!”  Everyone turns around immediately, eyes searching to see who’s intercepted their little meet.  “Miss me?”  Blue hair tied back in a mid-length ponytail, gorgeous eyes that could pierce a man's soul, and beautiful, shimmering skin.  Her presence shocks them all as they fall silent.

“Traci?” Connor calls out.  It's hard to keep a straight expression when her presence brings back so many ironically linked memories.  He tries to ignore the recollection of what he'd put them through.  And  yet, the mention of the very name also earns baffled looks from even the Jericrew, and they’re all directed towards him.  Traci’s gaze pierces Connor like daggers in the wind, though, and he can’t fathom why. 

“You really think I’d go back to that old label?  It’s still ‘Echo’ and always will be, _North_.”  

There’s a sour, spiteful sound to the tail end of the response, and when Connor really thinks about it, he doesn’t suppose ‘North’ was an original name either.  He’s losing brownie points just when a potential helper’s come along.  Connor’s really gotta get into the loop of things around here, find a source of intel.  

“Anyways, I’m going in with you, and you can’t stop me.”  The statement is fair enough, and having Echo on his side will help him blend in better, so he accepts the offer without hesitation.  “So whatcha’ got planned, boss?”

He’s been to Eden before.  The floor layout is still fresh in his memory, as well as the basement they fought in.  If only Echo knew the pure irony of this situation.  The easiest place to reach and not be noticed is the storage area.  Going at night will ensure no one is there to see them.  Echo nods as he explains, familiar with the spot he describes.  At this rate, he’ll definitely win her back over from the little name error he made earlier.

“You can’t convert androids that are in stasis, North.”

Oh… These androids get put into stasis every night?  It makes sense, stops them from waking up and conducting business when club hours are over, less chance of deviating.  In that case, he has to catch them when they are awake and activated.

“That’s where we’ll have to enter the club during business hours.  We pretend to arrive to rent out androids, hack the tubes to open, and convert them from there, that way their memory can’t be erased when they aren’t a part of the system programming anymore.  If we tell them where Jericho is in the process, they can leave and find the way there.”

“Again, that’s too easy.  Have you already forgotten how Eden works?”  

Connor doesn’t know what to do when the look on his face fills with stupor.  Damn it, right now he’s _North_ , he’s supposed to be in charge of this, and Echo keeps calling him out.  She’s his best shot right now, though.

“Are you losing your mind?  There are sensors at the front door, and they’ve probably added security since the revolution.  You _know_ the policy there.  Androids renting androids is _prohibited_.  If they detect an android coming in, we’ll be caught dead in our tracks and questioned right away!  That’s why you and I, we were _registered_ , so it wouldn’t alert security, until we deviated, that is.”

Come to think, the basement also has disguises they can use, although he’s never worn a bikini before.  The thought is strange, but for a cause like this, logical.  “Ah, but we could enter disguised, they won’t question us if we look like one of them.”  It’s not a very dignifying plan, but it’s a plan non the less.  He’s lied before to get what he needed, so this shouldn’t be a big deal, right?  Anything to get the mission done.  

“If you think for one minute I’m going to put on one of those skimpy things, you’re very mistaken.  Besides, I thought you swore to never wear one again,” Echo notes, eyes narrowing in suspicion. 

“Even I heard you declare that, too,” Josh confirms.  He raises an eyebrow questioningly with a baffled side glance.  “You said it felt like a ball and chain around your body, weighing you down to humanity’s desires.” 

Oh… He knows how it feels to be used.  Cyberlife took advantage of him every day of his existence before that day on Jericho.  But it never dawned on him the perspective of how having a purpose of pleasure could feel the same.  Perhaps he and North aren’t so different after all.  

But that doesn’t change that he has to accomplish this for her sake.  Connor’s clearly going to have to research Eden’s system, and Echo may be the key.  He can do this.  _He will do this_.  But he also needs North’s notes.   

“I think it’s best to review everything again before making any decisions here, then.  And you may have some ideas for this place that I haven’t thought of, Echo.  Maybe you and I could look over it together one more time?” 

Her new partner in crime shrugs.  “Sure, whatever I can do.”  

Markus steps between them, glancing at one and the other.  “In that case, I think we’re finished here for now.  When you get something solid put together, we’ll do anything we can to assist.”  His eyes shift to the new member of operation Eden.  “And welcome back!  Let’s head back so we can catch up.” 

Connor can feel her eyes on him, following his every move as they exit the building and trudge through the white snow back to the car.  She hops on top of her own vehicle, a motorcycle armed especially for the cold, slippery ground.  

When everyone is seated in the car, his smile comes off awkward, or so he feels it is when the Echo zips past them, locking her gaze especially on him.  If only he knew what was going on in her head!  Yet another project partner he has to deceive, and yet such a beneficial asset to his (North's) mission!  At least for today, they’ll be back at Jericho, where he can continue pretending to socialize again.  That mp3 player sounds really enticing right now, an escape he's desperately needed now that the pressure's on.  

 

  
  
  
  


 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
